Belief

3.0

Maddie's POV

Opening the front door slowly, I held my breath in hopes of sneaking into the house undetected. As soon as I stepped inside I realized that was a lost cause. My father was sitting on the couch, his eyes shooting up at me. Quietly shutting the front door behind me, I slowly made my way towards the staircase, thinking maybe he wouldn't say anything. Of course the one time I actually want him to ignore me, he chooses to finally notice my existence.

"Good try, get over here," he calls sternly to me. I sigh, dragging my feet over to the couch. "You think you can run out on dinner and waltz home at one in the morning and I won't say anything to you?"

"Dad, I-"

"This just proves that you can't handle it here. New York is the best option for you. You will go to a private school, and spend time in your studies like you should've been doing here." He turns his attention back to his laptop.

"I do study!" I stomp my foot in frustration. "I'm sorry, is straight A's not good enough for you?" I roll my eyes. Nothing was ever good enough for them.

"Don't talk to me that way." He let out a deep breath. "This behavior is not acceptable which is precisely why we are leaving for the city on July 26th," he stared me down, locking in the final decision.

"But that is in three weeks!" I gape. The tears that I had become all too accustomed to began to surface once more. As soon as everything was finally going right in my life, well as close to right as it would ever get, something new had to come a ruin the calmed waters.

"So you should start packing," he turned away from me, focusing back on his laptop, typing away.

I stared at him, my body unable to move. I had thought it would be easy to escape this. I thought there was no way I would actually have to leave.

But now I'm not so sure it is escapable.

I might just be trapped.

Michael's POV (Crazy I know)

Sitting behind the glass of Studio 301, all of our attempts of being professional faded within the first twenty minutes of being here. We recorded Gotta Get Out with ease, but after that our unavoidable immaturity took over. Looking around the studio, Ashton was spinning around on his chair yodeling, Calum was poking Luke repeatedly, and I was saying nasty things into the little microphone.

We are a serious band I swear.

"Okay guys, let's do one more song," John, the studio guy's voice filled the recording room. He sat behind the glass window peering into the room like one would look into a monkey cage at a zoo.

"Uh sure, which song should we sing?" Luke pushed Calum away.

"We have a lot that we've sung at gigs, or practiced already," Calum stuck his tongue out at Luke.

"No, let's do one that you guys haven't rehearsed. Let's do something new," John rubbed his hands together.

We already did two cover songs, how the hell were we supposed to do 'something new'?

"We don't have any unrehearsed songs," Ashton sassed into the speaker. It was true, every time one of us wrote a song we showed it to each other right after it was finished. Well almost every time...

Calum slumped down in his chair, exhausted.

"We actually might have one," I mutter quietly.

They all turn to look at me. Shit.

I was never planning on actually showing anyone the song I wrote. It was crappy anyway. I wrote it when the whole 'Maddie thing' was going on. Sometimes music is the only way to sort out my feelings. When my mind is a mush of wants and cannots, I can turn to the one thing I know I can control.